When G-dog, the hog, come up in the placeThere's dollar signs in your eyes and a smile in your faceYou want to live fat off of my sackYou got more drag than a low lo-do, cut the act'Cause back before '92 and '93You didn't give a damn about Warren GBut now that I'm slingin' platinum LP'sAll of a sudden you on my N.U.T'sAin't nothin' you can do to make it stop'Cause money makes the worldGo 'round and the panties dropI ain't in love though, I don't need the pressureI just want to dig it like I'm diggin' for treasureSome of y'all had a good thing that you couldn't keepThought you was TLC, you had to creepYou say you had love, I said you bullshitIt's all about the dough, so what's love got to do with it

What's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)What's love if you don't respect the game (uh-huh)What's love got to do, got to do with itIf you lack in this game, it's a shame you won't make it

Now, I'm the type of brother that's down for minesBefore I made beats, I was down to grindBack then, every single homey had my backNow they're peepin' my stack and they're talkin' bout jackBut I'm the same brother day in and day outAnd I'm-a stay that way until the day I lay out in a casketIt's drastic 'cause homies is plasticBreak 'em off some breadThey want the whole damn basketIf you's a true homey, you would wish me wellNot plot to make a brother fail, jealous as hellWe used to get the same richesNow your trigger-finger got the itches, schemin' on my riches Which is not a surprise, my eyes peep game211's, 187's it's all the sameIt's all a shame, homies'd jack you for your gripAin't no love involved, because it's all about the chips

What's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)What's love if you don't respect the game (uh-huh)What's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)If you lack in this game, it's a shame you won't make it

Now for these labels tellin' fablesMakin' the fucked-up deals under the tablesYou think that you smart, but fool, I'm the smartestYou canÂ´t make no money if you can't keep an artistSign the dotted line, put 'em on the shelfBreak 'em off some crumbs, keep the rest for yourselfI know how it goes, treat an artist like a ho'Fly cars, gold, clothes, but no doughSince it's all business, I'm-a handle mineKeep track of my stack down to the very last dime'Cause in this rap game, it's all about the buckYou bend over for the label, and you will get fuckedLike how we run up in a trick, and then you're throughThe record label do the same shit to you90% business, 10% showAin't no love in this game 'cause it's all about the dough

What's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)What's love if you don't respect the game (uh-huh)What's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)If you lack in this game, it's a shame you won't make it